Such beauty, behind the mask
by xXSchmayXx
Summary: Erik certainly did not expect to love again, nor did he ever think anybody could ever love him. But when young Irina Spalko walked into that cemetery one day. He knew that she would be the one who would bring him such happiness that he truly deserved.
1. Chapter 1

**For those who are wondering, Irina Spalko is from Indiana Jones 4. She is my other obsession xDD had to re upload this because of my stupid computer being a bitch to me.**

Irina Anya Spalko dug her heels indignantly into the cobbled courtyard, Using her greatest efforts to prevent her mother's violent tugs from pulling her any further to the front door.

_"No mother! I am sorry, but I refuse to associate myself with those...commoners."_ She murmured brusquely. Irina was never a girl to be particularly fond of market day, neither was she of those men manned the tattered stalls. They always assumed her to be some sort of idiot, always looking at her as if she was in the wrong. Another problem seemed to be that they always ogled at her mother, thinking thoughts about her that should not be thought by men of their status. Irina was not particularly close with her mother, but she still did not want working class men, of all people, to involve themselves in her mother's life. Of course, Irina did not quite fully understand what these men were after when they studied the tall thin body of Vinchenta Olga Spalko, she was barely five years old after all., but what she did know was that these men were trouble, and that it was best to not involve herself with them. "_Couldn't I just go for a walk? It is beautiful today and I do not wish to spend it standing at a drab market stall staring blindly at men selling and buying their ware."_

Her mother rubbed her forehead in stress and gave out a rather exasperated sigh. She was most definitely not in the mood for one of Irina's displays of un-lady-like, childish behaviour. Wishing that she would show at least an ounce of decorum.

"_Very well. But if you go anywhere near that opera house, I swear you will be in serious trouble"_ She gave a small, emotionless nod and pushed past her. Purposely making sure the nudge was hard enough to forced her little girl into the wall.

"_Very subtle" _She murmured with an eye roll

"_What was that?" _The angry voice of her large and very, very heartless, KGB father spat, angrily.

"_Oh, nothing.." _Her head bowed down. "_I will do as you say mother, I promise." _Irina walked briskly to where her father stood. "_Father" _She greeted him curtly and left the small shack in which they had occupied for the last few days of what was left of summer. The air was already being filled with a harsh, cold Paris breeze. Yet the young girl still did not seem to mind being parted from her mother and father. Even the coldest, harshest of winters would not be enough to keep Irina in the same room as her family for a prologued period of time. It was perfectly obvious that her family was changing. Tomek, her father would hardly acknowledge his only daughters existence when the family conversed at the evening meals. Mind you, he had always been like this, yet that would not be enough to explain her mother behaving in this way. It hurt Irina from the inside, scraping and scraping her heart like rusted razors, - slow and painful - "_Why?..why do they behave in this way?" _Irina would whisper, time and time again, as she prayed at night for even her elder siblings to show affection towards her. But they never did, she was five years old, far too old to be wishing for things that she could not have.

"_It is just work stresses" _Her older cousin Misha would murmur calmly into her ear. The only family to see her for what she really was, a human being. But of course, it was most definitely not work stresses. Deep down Irina knew the answer was simple yet ever so harsh. She was psychic, a birth "Deformity" in a sense, a development that neither she nor anybody else could predict or prevent, but instead happened on it's own accord. Weather or not it had a reason behind it, was a completely different matter altogether. Irina sighed and walked away. She did not care where she was going, as long as she had escaped their clutches for a few hours, she would be happy. She walked on.. Not looking back. Just going forward. Walking. Looking up every so often to look out for any sign indicating where she would go to find the familiar cemetery that had sparked her interest., a year ago, when she had overheard her mother telling her younger sister, Karynah the remarkable, yet curious tale of "The phantom of the Opera" one evening before bed. The deformed musical genius and his heartbreaking tragedy made Irina's heart thud with sympathy and compassion towards he poor man. She couldn't help but feel a connection between the two of them. Even though she had not met him. They both had one thing in common, and that was simple. They were different from other people. Anyway, she quickened her pace, walking briskly. Finally, a sign came into view. Curious, Irina scanned the French printed polished surface. She sighed. English was her first language, as she was brought up in the English speaking regions of Ukraine. Her second language was the soft, Cyrillic written language that is Russian. Far from being similar to the gracefully hard to pronounce French language. Again she sighed in exasperation. "_Oh why do you torment me with these challenges mighty Phantom"._ The sign was all but helpful . Not without a skill for languages or the ability to freely converse with fellow pedestrians in order to retrieve the help she sought. She was far too shy, but still, the determined young girl mustered up enough courage to ask a passing woman, who had children of her own by her side.

"_Madam, do forgive me for my English tongue. For I do not speak French. Would you be so kind as to help me?"_

The woman beamed as though she was a Cheshire cat. It was nice to be confronted with such remarkable politeness and manners that this girl possessed.

"_For what is it that I need to help you with? Dear young one." _Her accent was soft and gentle to listen to. She set her hands on her laps and bent down to survey the girl, such a good vocabulary for her age.

"_Would you...may you please direct me to the cemetery, as I am just an average Ukrainian holidaying with my family."_

Again the woman beamed at her, moving her hand in a waving motion, she signalled towards her right.

"_Very well, just follow that road, and you shall reach your destination very soon" _She nodded and stood up straight again. "_What, may I ask, is your name?"_

"_Irina, madam"_

"_Such a beautiful name, for such a beautiful girl like yourself."_

Irina blushed profusely. "_Thank you"_

"_You are very welcome, now, if you do excuse me, I have to go now." _She waved and left.

"_Bye" _Irina whispered almost to herself. Such kindness, she hadn't it experienced before. She couldn't help but let a tear out. At last she could find the man who haunted her imagination, through song. As she walked through the gates of the grand cemetery, she found the needle in the hay stack. The grave of a "Christine Daae". Beside it, a rose, entwined with a black ribbon. "_He's been" _She breathed. That wasn't the only thing that had been left there. The centre piece of all the flowers, was a small paper mache music box. Occupied with a small monkey playing cymbals, that made a tinkling noise when touched. Irina knelt down to it. Holding it in her hands, running her fingers across the surface. Such a beautiful object. She closed her eyes and opened it. The quiet lullaby play softly. Irina recognized the tune, "Angel of music." Her older brother Kristofer used to play it for her, using his guitar before she slept at night.

"_I am your angel of music.." _A gloomy, yet mesmerizing voice sung.

"_Who goes there!" _Irina bolted upright, startled. Dropping the music box, causing the music to cease to play. A tall cloaked, rapier wielding figure stood behind her, he was masked. It was him, the Phantom of the Opera.

"_I am your angel of music..."_

"_You..." _Irina whispered. He wasn't as frightening as her mother had warned. His face wouldn't scare her if she saw it in all of it's glory. She quickly reached out to touch his face, curious by the mask that he wore. Her fingers slid underneath it, ready to pry it off when the figure used the back of his hand to strike her face and knocked her off balance. The mask fell to the floor. Exposing the crater like disfigurement that he had been cursed with as a child.

"_Curse you!" _He spat angrily, betrayed and humiliated, covering his marred face. "_Foolish child!" _He took off running. Disappearing down a stair well, leading to the catacombs of the opera house. "_Curse you!"_

Irina swallowed and scooped up the mask. Sliding it in her deep dress pocket, she followed him, running as fast as her small sticks of legs would take her._ "Wait!, please! I want to help you!"_ Then she remembered what her mother said .She stopped dead on the ground. _No you fool, mama told me not to go there!_ She shook her head, regardless of her promise to her family, she disappeared down the stairwell, and into the Opera house. _  
><em>


	2. Meeting Erik

**I know. Not that great. But still! please review! :3 and please check out my friend Adrianna's stories (Lolagemeow)**

The cool morning's breeze howled ominously though the charred remnants of the Opera House. A strand of Irina's thick Jet-black hair loosened itself from the vermilion barrette that she would wear on all occasions, in the iconic half up half down style that anyone would recognise her by. She disliked it, but it would have to do. Perhaps one day she would be brave enough to slip un-noticed into the kitchen and hack at her hair until it was nothing more than a short scraggly bob. The long hair reminded her of the mother she scorned. People always insisted upon the fact that Irina and Vinchenta shared the same looks, characteristics. Of course Tomek Spalko, Irina's father and Vincheta's long term husband, would remain in denial, after all.

"_Comparing my wife to my daughter would be not only disrespectful, but hurtful. I do not wish to condone such insults, and I do not wish to press this matter any further. That will be all"_

Irina continued to explore. A sense of danger was imminent. Irina knew this. The infamous stories of hangings were well know to her. Yet, she still did not see this man as a total threat. Surely he would not attack a small girl. Then again, she did the foolish deed of removing the mask,. The mask that his conscience forced him to submit to wearing, to hide his marred face from the world and all it's cruelties. She needed to find this man, return his mask to him, and somehow manage to convince him that she was not an enemy. She let out a breath of air and turned entered a small desolated dressing room. Somehow, it had managed to survive most of the flames that destroyed and gutted the rest of the opera house. Irina had heard the stories of what had happened the night of the devastating fire. It was back in 1870, when her grandfather was a young boy. He too had been holidaying in Paris at the time. Opera had been one of his greatest interests. Many times would he tell the story, of when Christine Daae foolishly removed his mask, and how the phantom reacted by severing the ropes that held up the chandelier. Causing it to fall and set the opera house ablaze. When everybody had come to their senses and found the phantom's lair, after hunting him down. He had gone. Nobody had ever seen him since. Until that day. Across from the door of the room that Irina had entered. There was a mirror. But it was not just a mirror. It seemed some what like a secret door, leading into an unexplored part of the building. Irina could tell this because the mirror had been slid open, and was slightly ajar. Taking a deep, rather prolonged breath of air. She entered through the mirror, down a long corridor and into the deep cavern inhabited by the Phantom. It was fairly dark. But tall, menorah-like candles illuminated the place, giving it an almost, homely feel to it. She could see a spiral staircase and descended it briskly, before being confronted by an almost canal like water system. There was a ledge with framed it, thankfully. So following said ledge. She found herself in a cavern. Her eyes scanned the room. Such a remarkable sight. Costumes, and paintings..and..scores! Let alone the large organ that centrepiece the area. Many mirrors also resided there...smashed. Nobody was there. At least..that is what Irina thought. As she turned, she prepared herself to leave, admitting defeat. But she didn't. A rather..gruff, chocked voice was singing softly, She guessed that he was also weeping.

"_Masquerade..paper faces on display - Who goes there?" _The voiced broke out of song as Irina stepped on a shard of glass. Making a rather startling crunching noise. Struck with fear, Irina was bound to the spot. When the voice didn't call out to her again, she relaxed. There it went again. The weeping. Finding that she was no longer immobile. Irina paced to the source of the noise and peered around the corner and into a small cove -an area where one would sleep at night- There he was. Laid on his swan shaped bed. He obviously heard Irina enter because he lifted his head.

"_Why do you cry dear phantom?"_

He turned away from her, ignoring her question and spoke out. "_Haven't you done enough damage?" _

"_Sir I-" _She cut herself off and cautiously sat at the end of the bed. The mask in her pocket made it uncomfortable to sit so she removed it and held it out, jogging it with her fingers as to attract the man's attention. _"..wanted to give this back.." _He took it from her and gently placed it back onto his face. Before turning to face the obviously far from terrified child. Irina looked up into his eyes..gosh he was handsome! The phantom was confused as to why this child has come personally to return a simple mask to him.

"_Why do you not cower away? An average child would never be this close to a monster like myself."_

"_You are not a monster!" _

"_Nonsense child. Have you not seen this face that I had been cursed with?"_

Irina HAD seen his face. It wasn't as repulsive as alluded to by many people she had met. "_I-think you're beautiful.." _This must have really warmed the phantoms soft side. A grin threatened to creep it's way to his mouth. At last someone thought he was good looking. He muttered a thank you and allowed the thought to sink in. Then, looking the child deeply in the eyes, he studied her. Such beauty! She was young, but this girl had a special sense about her. "_What is you're name?" _he was caught off guard from ogling her but happily obliged. It felt good to have a..a friend! "_Erik. And yours?"_

"_Irina Spalko...I'm five years old."_

"_A beautiful name to match a beautiful girl." _Irina had not been called this before. She also murmured her thanks and stood to her feet. She noticed the time by a clock on the wall above her and realised how late it was getting.

"_I have to go..I'm sorry" _Before Erik could breath another word, she leaned in, kissed his cheek and left. Calling out "_Goodbye..Erik!"_

"_Goodbye Irina!"_

"_I'll come tomorrow..I promise!" _And with that she was gone. Erik was left to himself again. He gently stroked where she had kissed him..a kiss! It felt so good to feel as though somebody had cared for him. Lying back on his bed, he closed his eyes. And fell asleep soundly. Knowing that she would be there for him the next day. He had shown his true colours that day, the loving, caring..charismatic phantom. Not the vicious killing machine that had destroyed the opera house all those years ago.


End file.
